


Sparkling Stars, Silent Sobs

by chanderson



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Fist Fights, Hurt/Comfort, India, M/M, McLennon, Paul cries a lot, Sex, Violence, poor Paul I love him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:45:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanderson/pseuds/chanderson
Summary: India, 1968. John makes promises he can't possibly keep. Paul gets hurt in more ways than one.





	Sparkling Stars, Silent Sobs

**Author's Note:**

> I love angst, what can i say? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The night is pleasantly cool, a breeze blowing through the trees that makes Paul shiver in his thin, cotton shirt. He leans his head back to stare up at the sky, mesmerized by the web of constellations. The full moon hangs suspended above him, all its craters and shadows on display. Paul lies back in the dirt and blinks slowly, his eyes glazing over as he traces the constellations with his finger. 

He can hear the low hum of voices coming from the ashram off to his right. He glances around the circle of trees surrounding him, shivering again in the cold. In the distance, two monkeys screech back and forth in conversation. Paul sighs, buzzing his lips.

After almost an hour of evening meditation, he’d needed to get away. It had been an intense session, the longest Paul had ever meditated at one time. It was cleansing and deeply spiritual, but he also came out of it feeling off balance, like he was on a boat but hadn’t gotten his sea legs yet. As everyone else mingled about and got ready for dinner, Paul slipped away and wandered into the surrounding jungle, finding himself a nice spot to lie down and star gaze. He’d hoped it would quiet all the thoughts in his head, but it seems like all he can do is think. His mind races at a dizzying pace. The meditation holds it at bay for only so long.

He squeezes his eyes shut and grinds the heels of his hands into his eye sockets until color blooms on the backs of his eyelids. 

“Alright there, Macca?” 

Paul flies into a sitting position, his heart stuttering, as John walks up. He lets out a nervous little chuckle and starts to stand. John holds a hand up. “No need to get up. I was just looking for you. Jane’s worried, said you disappeared on her.” 

“I wanted to get away for a bit.” Paul stares at the trees behind John’s head. 

“Mind if I join you?” 

_Yes._

“Not at all. Be my guest.” 

John plops down next to Paul and cranes his head back. 

“It’s beautiful isn’t it? We never get that many stars in London.” 

Paul hums in response. He closes his eyes again; weariness settles into his bones; everything feels hazy. “You sure you’re okay?” John asks. Paul doesn’t open his eyes.

“Yeah.” He absently drums his fingers on his stomach. “Did you get a letter from Yoko this morning? I saw you head off to the post office again.” 

“Uh, yeah, I did.” 

“What’s the deal there?” Paul tries to keep his voice light, but the undercurrent of insecurity is still there. John scoots closer and gently takes Paul’s hand. 

“Nothing. She’s just some crazy artist. Don’t worry about it.” John strokes Paul’s hand with his thumb. 

Paul stays silent, and John squeezes his hand. “Paul?” 

“I don’t believe you.” His voice is so soft that the wind almost carries it away. John sits up and leans over to peer down at him.

“Why not? I’d never leave you; you know that.” John brushes Paul’s hair out of his face.

Paul can’t help but laugh. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to hold John’s gaze. 

“You’ve left me before. What’s to stop you this time?” John frowns and sits back. He stares up at the sky. 

“When—?”

“Stu.” 

“Jesus Christ, Paul. Are you still not over that? We were _kids.”_

“Almost left me for Brian, too. I’m sure you remember that.”

“Don’t bring Brian into this,” John snaps. “He’s dead, for fuck’s sake!”

“You asked me what was wrong. If you didn’t want to know, then why’d you ask?” Paul stands up and shoves his hands in his pockets, turning his back to John. He hears John stand too, his feet shuffling in the leaves. 

“I didn’t know you were so fucking insecure. It’s not a good look on you, _Macca.”_ Paul clenches his teeth, wills himself not to get worked up. He thinks of his mantra instead. 

“I came out here to be alone, John. I’d like you to leave.” 

John groans dramatically.

“Dammit Paul, you’ve always been just like a bird — always upset about something.”

“Whatever, John.” Paul shakily lights up a cigarette. He tries to center himself with each deep exhale of smoke. 

“What the hell is your problem?” John demands. “Are you really _that_ threatened by the other people in my life? I thought you were a bigger person than that.” 

Anger burns in Paul's stomach and he exhales sharply, turning around to face John. 

“I wouldn’t have to feel threatened if you didn’t treat me like something you can just throw away once you get bored!” Paul swallows back a lump in his throat, furiously blinking back tears. 

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so fucking annoying about the whole thing, I wouldn’t have a reason to get bored,” John snarls. “Every time we fuck it’s like I have to re-talk you into it. You’ve always been such a pussy about it, ever since we first started back in Hamburg.” 

Paul feels like he’s been hit in the solar plexus. He stumbles a couple steps away from John, staring at him. 

“Fuck you. I don’t need this — I don’t need _you._ ”

His voice shakes when he says it. The words burn like acid in his throat. John barks out a laugh and shakes his head, an amused little smirk on his face. 

“Oh _Paul,”_ he drawls sarcastically. “Of course you need me. Haven’t you heard, luv? It’s _Lennon-_ McCartney for a reason. We wouldn’t be here without me, and it would do you some good to remember that!” 

Paul feels a surge of anger so strong that he wants to punch John in the fucking face. 

Instead, he sucks in a sharp breath and crosses his arms. 

“And we both know _how_ you got your name first, don’t we?” he sneers. “It had nothing to do with merit, and everything to do with you letting Brian toss you off in Spain!” 

John lets out a howl of anger, and the next thing Paul knows, he’s flat on his back, blood gushing from his nose, and John’s weight pressing on his stomach. He gasps and tries to push John off him, but John just lands another punch, this time taking aim at Paul’s jaw. Paul groans and brings his hands up to protect his face. “John, please!” 

“John? Paul?” Ringo runs up with George not far behind him. “What the fuck’s going on?” 

Paul gasps for air as John stumbles off him, falling back on his ass. He stares at Paul in horror. 

“Oh God, Paul. I’m so sorry—”

_“Paul?”_ Jane shrieks as she runs up behind George. “What the fuck did you do to him?!” She hurries over to Paul and kneels beside him. He pushes her away and shakily stands up. 

“I’m fine,” he says, even as the metallic taste of blood fills his mouth. He nearly gags as he wraps his arms around himself and takes off for the ashram, ignoring the concerned looks Ringo and George shoot him. Underneath the dull ringing in his ears, he distantly hears Jane cursing at John. His lip starts to tremble as a sob builds in his throat. He doesn’t want anyone to see him cry. 

Once Paul gets to the ashram, he goes straight to his room and locks the door so Jane can’t get in. 

The first sob tears itself out of his throat as he collapses on the bed and buries his head in the pile of pristine white pillows, smearing them with blood. 

He weeps for what feels like hours, broken sobs wracking his body hard enough to shake the bed. At some point, Jane loudly knocks on the door and shouts for him, but he ignores her. 

Eventually, the pulsing pain in his face gets to be too much, and he lets Jane come in. She fusses over him, cleaning off his face and making sure he ices it. 

Afterward, they strip down until they’re both naked and climb into bed together.

“Does it hurt?” She whispers in the dark, her breasts pressed against his chest. 

“I guess.” His voice is flat, unemotional. He feels wrung out, exhausted in a way that he’s never felt before. 

“I think I know a way to distract you.” Jane gently kisses his swollen jaw and grabs his cock. He tries to protest, but she shushes him and throws the blankets back, slowly slinking down his body. “Let me take care of you, Paul.” 

Her mouth envelopes him and he moans. 

In his mind, he imagines that it’s John.

\---

Paul doesn’t leave the bungalow for the next three days. 

Jane tries to persuade him to at least come meditate with the group, but the thought of seeing John makes him feel physically ill. Even Maharishi comes by at some point, sits and meditates with Paul to help cleanse his pain. 

It still hurts. 

Even as the pain in his jaw and nose fades, the pain _inside_ remains. 

Jane brings him food back after each meal, but he won’t eat it. Even the thought of food makes Paul want to throw up. Finally she gives up and goes to stay in Cynthia’s room with her. Paul relishes the quiet. 

On the third night, someone knocks on the door and opens it before Paul has a chance to respond. 

He’s lying curled up on his side facing the wall, but he still knows it’s John. He can _feel_ it’s John. 

“Paul?” 

“What do you want?” 

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby.” The door closes with a soft click. The lock turns. The bed dips with John’s weight. 

“No, John,” Paul says weakly. He’s always been powerless to stop John Lennon.

“I love you, Paul.” John curls around Paul’s body, spooning him tightly. “I don’t know what came over me. I’ll never hurt you again. I promise.” 

Paul laughs dryly. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Johnny.” 

“I mean it. I’ll never hurt you or make you feel unwanted again.” John rucks Paul’s shirt up and slowly rubs up and down his spine. 

“Did you get another letter from Yoko?” 

John’s hand stills. 

“Yes.” 

“Alright then.” 

John gently rolls Paul over and climbs on top of him, peppering his sore jaw with sweet butterfly kisses. 

“Let me make love to you, baby,” he croons. “I love you, Paul. Let me love you.” 

Paul turns his head and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Please don’t say that. You don’t mean it.” 

John worshipfully undresses Paul, taking his time to kiss each inch of revealed skin.

“I love you.” 

John pulls his own clothes off, carefully folds his glasses on the bedside table. “I love you.” 

Paul squeezes his eyes shut. John pops open a bottle of Vaseline. “I love you.” 

“No you don’t,” Paul gasps as John starts to work him open. 

“I love you.” John coats his cock with Vaseline until it shines.

“John. Please.” Paul’s voice breaks. John kisses the tears off his cheeks. 

“I love you.” John slowly pushes in. 

“Please.” Paul shudders. 

“I love you.” 

_“Please.”_ Paul’s grabs John’s waist.

“I love you.” John’s cock pulses inside him.

“I love you too.” Paul’s cum splatters their stomachs.

John holds him as he cries. 

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like John always comes out as the bad guy in my fics. Oh well. I wanted to write something with them fighting, but I don't see Paul physically attacking John, so here we are. 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated :-)


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